


No Mi Diga

by GalekhXigisi



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Detective Logic | Logan Sanders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Abortion, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mob Boss Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Multi, Murder, Police Officer Morality | Patton Sanders, Right Hand Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Right Hand Deceit Sanders, Trans Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Trans Male Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, mentioned miscarriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:18:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Virgil is completely aware that two of his boyfriends are police officers, but he's also incredibly aware that the other two are perfectly content with taking his orders, ready to kill at his signal. However, the two sides are clashing and Virgil knows that things aren't going to exactly end well if things keep up the way that they are. With a few crafty lies, though, he doesn't have to worry about shit.





	1. Chapter 1

This in and out job was _not_ something Virgil was exactly having fun with. Sure, a lot of the jobs he took were fun. Some ended with deaths, others with nothing anywhere near such, just like the time he helped a woman give birth in the middle of a _“business”_ meeting. However, his hormones are striking harshly inside of him, battling out angrily as he rythmatically clicks the gun’s safety on and off. It was loaded with exactly seven bullets. It wasn’t that it was a favorite number, no, but seven was dependable when it was three on three during meetings. Ones even not like now, where Roman stands beside him, a hand pressing against his hip. It grounds him, helping him breathe.

 

“It’s okay, Vee,” Damien supplies from across the room, leaning against the wall. He has chains in his hands, two lines not yet connected. They clink quietly, helping ground Virgil even more so than he already was. They made sure to have a couple of noises in the room at almost all times, only saving the silence for those that had the horrid luck _[or horrid choice]_ to end up chained to the chair, often cuffed or held down by rope. This time, though, chains seemed to work wonderfully, keeping their current captive, a man named Everson, down against the chair.

 

Before Virgil had put on brass knuckles, he held just a chain, the one that was currently in Damien’s hands, still covered in blood. Earlier, that chain had even been wrapped around Everson’s throat, leaving disgusting bruises and horrid cuts that would definitely scar. However, Virgil has no intention of keeping the man alive any longer than he had to. The man could only make so many intelligible begs for mercy after having his tongue physically ripped from his mouth by a very pissed off and very hormonal Virgil Sanders.

 

Everson was supposed to be a quick murder, but the twenty-one-year-old is currently finding that it is going to be no such thing. It had been six hours since Virgil had picked the man up. He was an ex-police officer, one from twelve states over that had visited for some police retreat a few months ago. He had a hook-up with one of Virgil’s co-workers, a woman that he had held somewhat close. She was practically his best friend outside of his relationship. However, when she contacted him to tell him she was having a child, Everson hadn’t dared to handle it rationally. Instead, she had come to Virgil, bawling her eyes out as she supplied that she had lost the child. He had still been in town, something that Virgil knows he now regrets.

 

“You killed a baby,” the youngest in the room concludes, safety now off as he presses the barrel to Everson’s forehead. The man’s face is streaked with tears, all streaked with blood and grime from getting both tossed and beaten by an _incredibly_ pissed off mob boss. She had been so close to delivery, just needing two more weeks. She always wanted a child of her own, especially a daughter. They had been so close to life. Virgil can only feel his stomach boil as he thinks about all his past miscarriages, after all the times he had sobbed because he had been so close to birth before his own body had given out on both himself and the children.

 

The gun goes off without another word from Virgil. He’s turned away, looking at the floor where one of Everson’s teeth currently lays, cracked and covered in blood from the brass knuckles earlier. Or, maybe it was when Virgil had him bite the chain and punch his jaw with the knuckles, resulting in an explosion of pain in Everson’s jaw and general bottom half of his face. Virgil can’t feel any remorse for him, though, leaning against Roman’s touch. He doesn’t need to be let go of, not now. He can already see the headlines. _Newly retired police found dead after supposed child murder only hours after resigning._ That would be the gist of it, he already knows.

 

Roman gently plucks the gun from Virgil’s fingers, pressing a kiss to the other’s cheek as he quietly whispers, “It’s okay, Vee. He’s dead now and Falcon is taking care of Val.” He kisses his cheek again, carefully guiding the other out of the room. Damien already knows what to do with the corpse currently sat in the other room. “Let's get you to the showers. Pat and Lo are both cooking tonight.” He kisses the crown of Virgil’s head, thankful for the minute nod he gets in return.


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil stares at the contents of his cup, mouth shut but still holding the water between his lips. His tongue stays clamped to the bottom of his mouth, yet to decide if he was actually going to swallow it or not, yet to even know why he had taken the drink in the first place. He didn't want it. He only accepted himself to do it as a distraction from the words on the television screen, still focused on Everson’s murder. He glances at the water one last time before he opens his mouth, water dribbling back in. It’s much calmer than he cares to admit, water slipping from between his lips and out. 

 

Patton frowns at that, brows furrowed in that fatherly worry that he holds far too close to his character. He gently pulls the cup away from the other, placing it on the coffee table and flicking the television over a few channels, cartoons playing quietly as he turns it down. The way Virgil relaxes doesn’t go unnoticed. He moves to press a gentle kiss to the other’s forehead, fingers lacing with his. Patton softly asks, “Is it alright if I take care of you tonight, Vee?” 

 

Virgil lays back on the couch, legs open for the other as he quietly supplies, “Safeword is pineapples.” They wouldn’t need it tonight, they both know, because Virgil is sleepy as can be and Patton is, too. The younger was down as could be, meaning that being rough was out of the question, anyway. Their safeword was more of a stop warning than anything else but that’s okay for both of them. 

 

Patton carefully finishes laying the other down, peppering his cheeks with kisses as he goes down. He knows Virgil prefers to be taken care of, only taking the lead every once in a while. Now is no exception, as it seems, Virgil mewling as soon as Patton presses a kiss to his neck, leaning into the touch. They don’t have sex too often, but Patton, as well as the rest of his lovers, had found that Virgil was sensitive as could be, much more so than even Logan was. They were both so damn sensitive… 

 

“Patton,” Virgil whines as the older presses against his hips, brows furrowed as the other presses him into the cushions. He can see the confusion billowing over the other. 

 

Patton leans up to press a kiss to the other, gently quipping, “I’m making you feel good tonight. Let me do the work, not you.”

 

The taller’s cheeks flush, bright against the darkness. Patton can’t help but lean forward and give him another kiss, smiling softly at the starstruck look. He can’t help but think that he would move heaven and hell personally for Virgil, as well as the rest of their boyfriends. It’s so cheesy, but he can’t help it. This man was going to be the fucking death of him. 

 

Virgil, realistically, knows that only Roman and Damien know why he prefers to be the bottom every time they have sex. He hopes that, maybe one day, when they’re all married and retired or whatever it is people do when they’re older these days, he’ll be able to tell them, laughing as he announces that he was actually one of the mobsters that they had been chasing their entire life. He knows that it isn’t going to be like that. His mother was fifty-two when she kicked the bucket, leaving a sixteen-year-old Virgil in charge of an entire criminal organization. He knew how to run it, yes, always ending out on top, but it didn’t help that he always found himself regretting it at the end of the day, held by one of his lovers that constantly swore they’d take down  _ that damn gangs leader. _

 

He likes to be beneath them, control stripped from him as well as responsibilities. He prefers the gentle care Patton provides after, cleaning off his thighs and kissing him gently before carrying him up the stairs. While everyone had initially thought Roman or Damien were the strongest in their relationship, everyone was surprised when they actually found it to be Virgil, who had wall fucked everyone at least once by now. But Patton had his own set of muscles. He had said it was so he could give the best hugs and Virgil didn’t doubt that in the least, given the man’s cuddly nature. He knows it’s true when they lay together, Virgil wrapped tightly in the other’s embrace, smiling at the kisses pressed his way. It’s…  _ calming. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually like this story somewhat.


	3. Chapter 3

Logan sighs as he slips the papers back onto the table, more so passing them to Patton than anything else. “I don’t get it,” he supplies simply, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He wants to groan and light the papers on fire, annoyed at this damn case. He really  _ didn’t _ get it. 

 

“Neither do I,” Patton glumly agrees, skimming through the papers. He fingers through them for what must have been the hundredth time, not noticing as Virgil walks into the room until he sits a cup of tea down beside him, coffee following and placed by Logan. “Thank you, Vee,” he mumbles, sipping on it silently. 

 

“What’s got you stumped,” Virgil asks quietly, leaning against the cabinet to sip on his tea-coffee mixture that was absolutely atrocious to anyone with tastebuds, in Logan’s opinion. “You two have been sitting like this since I first got up and it’s, what? Like, maybe three now?” He glances at his phone, solemnly nodding. “THree, sharp, yeah.” 

 

Logan gives a vague wave of his hand. “There are no connections to Valyrie and Everson at all. Just their one night stand from so long ago that left her with a child. With her, the assault, and him turning up dead-” 

 

“Why are you two on the case in the first place? You’re supposed to be impartial and Val is our mutual friend.” 

 

“We were the only ones that would take it,” Patton supplies, “since it makes the police look bad and neither of us care if we look bad. He was guilty and deserved what he got, yes, but it was awfully cruel.” 

 

Virgil shrugs, face neutral. “Maybe it was some gang paying reprimands for it? You know how much they hate the police. Giving them a reason like that to kill someone, they’d probably go for it.” 

 

Logan agrees, “Yes, we understand that. However, we have to place a name on it. Even if it’s simply the name of the gang, it’s still a name.” 

 

The youngest shrugs and gives a gentle nod, sitting down at the table with a slight frown. He runs a hand through his messy hair, not minding the somber looks he gets from the two as he pulls the papers away, neatly placing them in the manilla folder on the table. “Come now, loves,” he mumbles softly, “give it a break for a bit. You two have been overworking yourselves. Today’s your day off. Come and watch TV with me and Roman.” 

 

Patton gives a gentle smile at the consideration the other has. Despite his frazzled mindset, he’s always the most observant. He’s home the least but he can tell how the others feel without having to actually ask or really say much. He doesn’t talk as much as the others, really, piecing in his occasional concern or some other bit of information that would knowingly change them somehow. He could give them one glance up and down and immediately know if they had a rough day, no matter how impartial Logan was or how easily Patton covered it. 

 

He collects them without a hitch, pressing kisses along their skin and calmly holding them close. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sucky chapter because I lost my train of thought throughout this so yeet. I'll either rewrite it or make the next chapter better, I'm not sure. Also unedited ;/

**Author's Note:**

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